‘Getting my hands dirty is hugely satisfying’
Novice potter Olivia Walmsley, 41, takes to the wheel at Turning Earth in Leyton
My early experiments in clay (a beady-eyed hedgehog, a sinister garden gnome, some wonky pen holders, all crafted between the ages of eight and 11) recently turned up in a box in the basement when my parents moved house. They were the products of happy afternoons in a pottery studio, now flattened and replaced by an adventure playground, in the grounds of my junior school. At the time, I didn’t realise how lucky I was, as I was too busy throwing lumps of wet clay at the ceiling.
I can’t remember my teacher’s name – just that she was the inspiration for the hedgehog, being a dead ringer for Mrs Tiggywinkle – but I do remember how much fun it was. So much more squidgy and tactile than drawing, and far less fiddly than sewing.
A career in ceramics was derailed by my move to secondary school, where the quiet pleasures of pottery were replaced by DT and the dangerous
allure of the glue gun. I forgot about pottery – until I found those wonky, dusty ornaments, around the same time friends started chattering excitedly about courses they had signed up for. And that’s when I got fired up again about pottery.
So, 30 years later, I made my way to Turning Earth’s airy Leyton studio, the winter sunshine illuminating rows of wheels, and shelves of unglazed pots.
Potter and instructor Grace McCarthy patiently took me through the basics of working with clay on the wheel. We started by pounding lumps of clay to remove air bubbles – excellent for anger management – before moving on to the wheel. In order to fashion a bowl or plate, you must first make a cone, then squidge it back down, then pull up the sides gently – one false move can send you spinning towards disaster. It was more difficult than I remembered. But still every bit as absorbing: three hours flashed by as fast as the wheel turned under my sad misshapen lumps.
As someone who works at a computer, moulding and forming the clay, getting my hands dirty, and having to focus on every movement was hugely satisfying. I resolved to sign up for a course: a hobby that keeps me away from box sets, social media or the pub can only be A Good Thing. Plus, I can eventually make my own set of plates for ultimate dinner-party smugness.
This may be some way off, though. After half a day of hard work, I managed to produce: a pen holder. The wheel is come full circle.